


Whiskey and Beer

by Roo_Bastmoon



Category: L.A. Confidential (1997)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roo_Bastmoon/pseuds/Roo_Bastmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While working together late one night on a case, Bud can't help but drink Exley in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey and Beer

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [威士忌与啤酒](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002621) by [styx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/styx/pseuds/styx)



> Drabble challenge: Heat. Alcohol. Sex. Respect.

Whiskey. Exley is like fine whiskey. His body is a glass bottle with precise ribbing; smooth contours that require a firm grip. His mouth is sweet on first contact, and burns like satin-fire going down. One sip, another; another; pretty soon, Bud’s drunk, and it will be a while before he even realizes he’s lost the feeling in his legs.

 

Bud is like beer and he fucking knows it. He’s cheap and common and packs a slow, sluggish punch. However, Exley seems to have an itch for him, despite this. Maybe because of this. And beer can be nice, sometimes. Ice cold can, touching red forehead, hot summer day like today, heat shimmering on the sidewalks of L.A., sweat and condensation. Sometimes the chill he gives off can be pleasant.

 

He’s got the college boy up against the wall – he’s licking the inside of those chiseled cheeks, tasting the hollow. Ed’s moaning softly, probably doesn’t realize it, hands fisting Bud’s wife-beater, wiry arms trembling to pull him closer. A coltish leg comes up over his hipbone, wraps around the back of his thigh – fuck, that feels good – and then Exley’s humping him like a damned whore.

 

“Jesus,” Bud breathes over the younger man’s face, adjusting his wobbly legs to get a wider stance. He leans into every available inch of Exley’s space and goes for the man’s throat. Ed thumps his head back against the wall and starts panting. Pressing frantically up against him. Long, slender fingers smoothing down, down, over his ass -- pulling -- abrupt; hungry.

 

College boy wants him bad.

 

Not ready to admit he’s just as desperate, Bud flattens his palm over Exley’s crotch and rubs in slow, sure circles. Smiles, while Exley bites his lip and groans – those blue eyes are clouded; eyelashes flutter like black snow against the pale ridge of his cheek. Bud wants to own every part of his chiaroscuro neediness. This moment will always be his after-image of sex.

 

“White,” Exley hisses, angry but also begging, fingernails digging, teeth bared.

 

Bud opens the man’s expensive trousers and sneaks his hand inside. Raises an eyebrow. No underwear. He grins wickedly and cups the leaking dick, stroking, and it’s exactly what Exley wanted; he can tell by the way his torso expands and his hips twist just to feel it more.

 

“Mm… mm!” Exley moans, giving over now, letting go – Bud’s going to drain this fancy bottle dry – and then the kid’s coming all over his hand. Warm, spicy. Thick. Exley’s sagging against him, and he can’t help but shelter the younger man in the crook of his neck, just holding on as Exley’s harsh breath batters against his chest. “God.”

 

He chuckles. “Funny pet-name. Could get used to it.”

 

Exley peers up at him for a long damned time – long enough to make him nervous, though he’d never show it. He watches as the younger man sinks to his knees and mouths his cloth-covered cock. And then he’s knuckling his weight against the wall, trying not to just grab up that silky hair and rut.

 

He knows he’s truly fucked when Ed smirks and takes the zipper in his teeth. Ziiiiiip. The kid’s nuzzling his prick, fingernails raking his pants and briefs down to his thighs; Christ, warm breath ghosting over him… Exley swallows him whole. Bobs on him – expertly, Bud notices – sucks him off, sharp and sweet.

 

Exley swallows greedily and then stands back up, trapped between the bars of Bud’s arms. Bud leans forward to kiss him, but it’s just a fleeting press of closed lips. It’s about respect, not love.

 

Exley says, “I don’t believe the witness for a second,” and Bud wonders how the man can jump tracks so easily – and then he realizes: Exley never stopped thinking about the case.

 

“I agree.” Their files are spread on the mahogany table. They always work like this, pouring evidence out all over Exley’s apartment, ever since Bud came back from Bisbee and Exley made him partner without any questions. “Another beer?” Bud asks.

 

Exley tilts his head. “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

He wipes Exley’s mouth with the back of his hand and nods.

~*~

END


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